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The Yellow Wallpaper
by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and
myself secure ancestral halls for the summer。
A colonial mansion； a hereditary estate； I would say a
haunted house； and reach the height of romantic felicitybut
that would be asking too much of fate！
Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer
about it。
Else； why should it be let so cheaply？ And why have stood
so long untenanted？
John laughs at me； of course； but one expects that in
marriage。
John is practical in the extreme。 He has no patience with
faith； an intense horror of superstition； and he scoffs openly at
any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in
figures。
John is a physician； and PERHAPS（I would not say it to a
living soul； of course； but this is dead paper and a great relief
to my mind）PERHAPS that is one reason I do not get well
faster。
You see he does not believe I am sick！
And what can one do？
If a physician of high standing； and one's own husband；
assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the
matter with one but temporary nervous depressiona slight
hysterical tendencywhat is one to do？
My brother is also a physician； and also of high standing；
and he says the same thing。
So I take phosphates or phosphiteswhichever it is； and
tonics； and journeys； and air； and exercise； and am absolutely
forbidden to 〃work〃 until I am well again。
Personally； I disagree with their ideas。
Personally； I believe that congenial work； with excitement
and change； would do me good。
But what is one to do？
I did write for a while in spite of them； but it DOES
exhaust me a good dealhaving to be so sly about it； or else
meet with heavy opposition。
I sometimes fancy that my condition if I had less opposition
and more society and stimulusbut John says the very worst thing
I can do is to think about my condition； and I confess it always
makes me feel bad。
So I will let it alone and talk about the house。
The most beautiful place！ It is quite alone； standing well
back from the road； quite three miles from the village。 It makes
me think of English places that you read about； for there are
hedges and walls and gates that lock； and lots of separate little
houses for the gardeners and people。
There is a DELICIOUS garden！ I never saw such a
gardenlarge and shady； full of box…bordered paths； and lined
with long grape…covered arbors with seats under them。
There were greenhouses； too； but they are all broken now。
There was some legal trouble； I believe； something about the
heirs and coheirs； anyhow； the place has been empty for years。
That spoils my ghostliness； I am afraid； but I don't
carethere is something strange about the houseI can feel it。
I even said so to John one moonlight evening； but he said
what I felt was a DRAUGHT； and shut the window。
I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes。 I'm sure I
never used to be so sensitive。 I think it is due to this nervous
condition。
But John says if I feel so； I shall neglect proper
self…control； so I take pains to control myselfbefore him； at
least； and that makes me very tired。
I don't like our room a bit。 I wanted one downstairs that
opened on the piazza and had roses all over the window； and such
pretty old…fashioned chintz hangings！ but John would not hear of
it。
He said there was only one window and not room for two beds；
and no near room for him if he took another。
He is very careful and loving； and hardly lets me stir
without special direction。
I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day； he
takes all care from me； and so I feel basely ungrateful not to
value it more。
He said we came here solely on my account； that I was to
have perfect rest and all the air I could get。 〃Your exercise
depends on your strength； my dear；〃 said he； 〃and your food
somewhat on your appetite； but air you can absorb all the time。〃
So we took the nursery at the top of the house。
It is a big； airy room； the whole floor nearly； with windows
that look all ways； and air and sunshine galore。 It was nursery
first and then playroom and gymnasium； I should judge； for the
windows are barred for little children； and there are rings and
things in the walls。
The paint and paper look as if a boys' school had used it。
It is stripped offthe paperin great patches all around the
head of my bed； about as far as I can reach； and in a great place
on the other side of the room low down。 I never saw a worse
paper in my life。
One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every
artistic sin。
It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following；
pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study； and
when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance
they suddenly commit suicideplunge off at outrageous angles；
destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions。
The color is repelllent； almost revolting； a smouldering
unclean yellow； strangely faded by the slow…turning sunlight。
It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places； a sickly
sulphur tint in others。
No wonder the children hated it！ I should hate it myself if
I had to live in this room long。
There comes John； and I must put this away；he hates to
have me write a word。
We have been here two weeks； and I haven't felt like writing
before； since that first day。
I am sitting by the window now； up in this atrocious
nursery； and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I
please； save lack of strength。
John is away all day； and even some nights when his cases
are serious。
I am glad my case is not serious！
But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing。
John does not know how much I really suffer。 He knows there
is no REASON to suffer； and that satisfies him。
Of course it is only nervousness。 It does weigh on me so
not to do my duty in any way！
I meant to be such a help to John； such a real rest and
comfort； and here I am a comparative burden already！
Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little
I am able；to dress and entertain； and other things。
It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby。 Such a dear
baby！
And yet I CANNOT be with him； it makes me so nervous。
I suppose John never was nervous in his life。 He laughs at
me so about this wall…paper！
At first he meant to repaper the room； but afterwards he
said that I was letting it get the better of me； and that nothing
was worse for a nervous patient than to give way to such fancies。
He said that after the wall…paper was changed it would be
the heavy bedstead； and then the barred windows； and then that
gate at the head of the stairs； and so on。
〃You know the place is doing you good；〃 he said； 〃and
really； dear； I don't care to renovate the house just for a three
months' rental。〃
〃Then do let us go downstairs；〃 I said； 〃there are such
pretty rooms there。〃
Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little
goose； and said he would go down to the cellar； if I wished； and
have it whitewashed into the bargain。
But he is right enough about the beds and windows and
things。
It is an airy and comfortable room as any one need wish；
and； of course； I would not be so silly as to make him
uncomfortable just for a whim。
I'm really getting quite fond of the big room； all but that
horrid paper。
Out of one window I can see the garden； those mysterious
deepshaded arbors； the riotous old…fashioned flowers； and bushes
and gnarly trees。
Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little
private wharf belonging to the estate。 There is a beautiful
shaded lane that runs down there from the house。 I always fancy
I see people walking in these numerous paths and arbors； but John
has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least。 He says
that with my imaginative power and habit of story…making； a
nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of
excited fancies； and that I ought to use my will and good sense
to check the tendency。 So I try。
I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a
little it would rel